


The Meaning Of...

by Late



Category: Therapy with Dr. Albert Krueger (Video Game), Vincent: The Secret of Myers, 文森: G4人偶事件 | Vincent: Phantom of the G4 (Video Game)
Genre: (for Kruecent), Bittersweet, Enemies to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Car Accident, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language of Flowers, M/M, Multi, Non-canon Gardening Hobby, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Late/pseuds/Late
Summary: "Victor, I need your help!"That same phrase has been used so many times over their years together, and he always turned with a smile, knowing he'd always help Vincent with anything. But this time, as their eyes met, he saw what he wishes he never had; those beautiful grey eyes were shining with love - and Victor knew it wasn't for him.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Vincent Edgeworth, Vincent Edgeworth/Albert Krueger, Vincent Edgeworth/Victor Blake
Kudos: 10





	The Meaning Of...

From the moment Victor saw the grand mansion he'd be staying at while taking care of Vincent, he knew... he had to do _something_ about that garden. It was nothing but dead rose bushes and weeds, simply a dreadful sight for anyone. Of course Vincent didn't complain, he hardly cared for plants anyway, but it became Victor's passion project, to fix up and revitalize the dreary patch of dirt just outside the front door. No matter what his new boss had him rushing around to do, he always managed to find time for it, even just a little bit of watering or pruning when he could. Soon, it was bright and blooming, all sorts of flowers with bright colors in seemingly no order scattered around the plot, leaving its gardener with a small smile of pride. By this time, Vincent had fully recovered, stepping out with a curious head tilt.

"..So this is what you've been doing all this time, hm."

"Indeed, and I'm quite happy with it- ..It, completely slipped my mind, I never asked it if was alright-"

"Mmh. It's, fine. Looks nice, if a bit, disorganized."

"It's actually quite organized."

"Not by any method I'm aware of."

"They're arranged by meaning. Over there on the far left, the more romantic meanings. In the middle, the generalized meanings, and on the right, sadder, more emotional meanings."

"..Interesting. Perhaps you'll have to explain what all of them mean to me. Eventually, of course, not right now."

Oh, but that thought sent his heart fluttering, a butterfly in his chest beating its heavy wings to fight the wind. To have Vincent listen to him explain the meaning in this garden he's spent so much time on, would mean the world to him. Eventually. He'd always been a patient man, he could wait.

* * *

"Victor, I need your help!"

That same phrase has been used so many times over their years together, and he always turned with a smile, knowing he'd always help Vincent with anything. But this time, as their eyes met, he saw what he wishes he never had; those beautiful grey eyes were shining with love - and Victor knew it wasn't for him. Months had passed, and the mansion had turned into a refuge for runaways and those without anywhere else to go, particularly cyborgs found wandering dazed around the old Myers Corp. building. One of these little cyborgs had become Vincent's focus rather recently, which was surprising, given his generally distant nature. So when Victor heard that call for him in the middle of the day, turning to smile in the face of defeat, he felt his heart sink, knowing he'd lost.

"I'm looking for a flower, something to give to this cyborg. Are there any that you might recommend, friend?"

Even as the mildly affectionate term pushed the knife further into his chest, he turned back to look over his flowers, contemplating each of them and what they meant. Eventually, he gently held the curved stem of some drooping flowers, carefully snipping and handing it off to Vincent. "Here, I think they'd like these."

They were turned over in his hand and carefully appraised. "Bluebells? Hmm.. and, what do they mean?" Ah, that's right. He never really got the chance to explain his garden.

"They mean-" It took a second for him to swallow down the taste of jealousy. "Everlasting love." Those same lovestruck eyes grew wide with hearing this, and.. was he blushing?

"Mmh, I see.. thank you, Victor. This means a lot." That gentle smile he longed would be reserved for him graced the man's face, just before he turned to leave, off to deliver this silent message. Victor kept his own smile steady as he moved to the right side of the garden, gently watering the Bleeding Hearts while a few stray tears rolled down his cheeks.

* * *

It was night when next Vincent showed up in the archway to the garden, Victor on his knees next to the trellises, and he was noted to be wearing a bowtie. The last time he wore one of those was.. the memory was quickly put out of his mind, as he saw the smile of wary confidence on the other's face, fingers gently fiddling with the previously pain-inducing garment. So Victor gently smiled back, glad to see that he'd regained the confidence to wear it, but curious as to what finally helped him get over this bump on his road to recovery. Quietly, he noted, perhaps 'road to recovery' would not be the best phrase to use.

"You've gotten more dressed than usual. What's the occasion, sir?"

"I don't believe I ever told you, but.. I recently received a call from an old college friend. Our _only_ old college friend. We've been chatting on and off recently and, he asked if we might, see each other in person some time. It's a long trip, but he assured me he could take time off from his work, and he plans to meet me here this evening. I want to give him something, special, for our first visit in years."

"I see. Something of the animosity variety?-"

"No, I'm thinking a bit more.. friendly."

His throat grew dry again, and there may not have been the same shine as his eyes had taken with their houseguest, but it was clear that the relationship between him and Albert had changed in those few short conversations. Only somewhat begrudgingly, he cut away at the vines in front of him, forming a small bouquet of white blooms, then held them out for inspection.

"Moon lilies, an interesting choice. Not very easy to carry.. I assume the meaning is more important?"

"Dreaming of love. Don't think I haven't heard the rumors about what his work entails. I believe he'd find it amusing."

Vincent laughed, and how his heart ached hearing it. He was thanked once again, and left in the quiet, with only his garden for company. A gentle sigh escaped his tired lungs while the smile finally fled his face, standing up and slowly walking to another patch. His hands were trembling - he hadn't been sleeping very well as of late, made obvious by the fact that he was still awake now - yet he carefully tended to the marigold and red carnation, feeling that silently repressed anger begin to rise as he heard an old, familiar laugh from the front door, praying he might get some peace tonight.

* * *

The rain fell heavy on this silent hill, truly, an air of grief had settled over the Edgeworth estate and didn't seem as though it would ever leave. The mansion itself had lost its color, the hallways that once echoed with flirting and laughter now lay silent in respect. Clear blue skies that brought light to this small haven were now smothered in deep grey clouds, heavy rain disturbing otherwise untouched soil, and even the flowers in the garden, now in need of a new tender, seemed to wilt in mourning. Vincent usually cared so much about his clothing, but such a silly notion didn't seem to matter anymore, letting his pristine suit become soaked. He looked around at all the once beautiful blooms, searching his mind to find any meaning in them, even to just remember something about how to care for them, but it was useless. He never found the time.. no, that was wrong. He always had the time. There had always been time for him to just stay still and listen, ask questions, learn, but now there would _never_ be time again. Time had run out. His legs began to shake, not from chill; he hadn't truly felt the cold in a long while. With short, stumbling steps, he fell to his knees in front of a small patch of flowers. The petals gave it the shape of an orchid, yet they were a pristine white color. With ungraceful hands, he plucked one of the stems and lifted it up, staring into the blossom as if it would provide him with all the answers. After a long moment, he suddenly spoke, voice hoarse with disuse. 

"Tell me, friend.. which of these means, a missed opportunity?"

Soon, his hand began shaking as well, and rain drops were not the only form of water dampening the flower's petals. Vincent clutched it to his face and hunched over, silently cursing the world which took so much from him, yet never let him see what he truly had.. until it was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> i deeply apologize if this feels at all out of character for any of them, but i hope you enjoyed it anyway ^^;


End file.
